trying to believe
by fabricated fantasies
Summary: Love isn't just for dreamers, you know. -— Dominique/Edmund, crossover


_Written for the Lion, the Wizards and the Wardrobe Challenge on the HPFC. For **Rhie**__ (renzhie) because she is my sister in every way, and is my DominiqueEdmund twin! Thanks to Mad, for beta-ing this for me._

* * *

She's the image of perfection: a heart-shaped face with ice-blue eyes, and a special_something_that no-one else has.

She kisses Scorpius on the cheek before leaving the crowded room, pretending – as always – that she doesn't notice the glare Rose gives her as she walks by.

She takes the stairs two at a time, an odd habit of hers she has kept from her childhood days, before reaching the sky-blue door opposite the stairs. She pushes the door open, the hinges giving a loud screech, and she looks around to see if anyone has followed.

Lucy's room is painted with coloured roses and swirling clouds and leaves. Lorcan painted it for her last birthday, and whenever she sees it she wonders why he chose roses. Aren't roses just for Rose?

Her gaze is immediately caught - as always – by the book propped up on Lucy's nightstand:_The Chronicles of Narnia. _The thick, well-thumbed book has always been an object of allure for her, ever since she was a kid. She sighs. She's been thinking about her childhood days more and more often lately.

She reaches out a pale, delicate hand and wraps her fingers lovingly around the spine, and opens it to her favourite page.

"_Peter, there's an army out there, and it's ready to follow you."_

"_I can't."_

"_Aslan believed you could, and so do I."_

The grey clouds rumble darkly and loudly, drawing her attention away from the book for a moment.

Knowing she doesn't have much time before Scorpius or some family member starts looking for her, she closes the book with a noisy thud. She strokes the cracked spine, thinking of days when her father would read to her and Victoire when they were little girls, before she fell into this all-consuming black-hole of loneliness and ice.

Her fingers brush the peeling gold letters, and for just a moment, she wishes Narnia was real.

She sees a flash of white-hot light, before the colours of the rainbow dip and swirl and twirl around her, and then _BOOM! _Everything goes black.

* * *

She opens her eyes a moment later to see the clear blue Narnian sky, where before the tarnished grey clouds thunder ominously.

She sits up, groaning and rubbing her head, as she looks around at the dew-dropped grass and shimmering sun.

She thinks she's completely alone, until iridescent green forms poke their heads out from behind the trees, and she gives a startled yelp as she realises they look human.

At her hoarse scream the figures duck back behind the trees, but she can see countless pairs of eyes still staring at her between the leaves.

Green skin, silver clothing, head-dresses made out of leaves… The description rings a bell in her mind, but whenever she tries to put a finger on it the idea slips away.

"Hello?" she calls, deciding to take a chance. When she notices the eyes staring even harder at her she smoothes her hair, for she never allows herself to look anything less than perfect, even in this strange place.

"Hello?"she calls again, and her voice echoes slightly.

Another figure appears between the trees, but this one is short and furry, and his nose twitches as if he has a cold.

"Miss?" the small figure asks, and she looks at him quickly, and stares in shock at the_talking _Beaver._Obviously, this is a dream_, her mind rationalises; she's always been quick at jumping to (usually wrong) conclusions.

"Miss?" he asks again, his nose crinkling. "Miss?" She stands up, determined to leave behind what is clearly a figment of her imagination.

She stalks out of the clearing and into the forest, and (as if by magic) she happens upon a shining golden castle.

"Wow."

* * *

Of course, she doesn't quite believe that she's really in Narnia – dreams don't come true that easily. But she tells herself to just go along with it, because at least she can pretend that she is someone else.

So life is full of dreaming and dancing and laughter and_fun_, and she nevereverever wants to go back.

(See – there's a boy. Isn't there always a boy?)

Sometimes, she thinks of the volatile relationship with a certain grey-eyed boy that she left behind. But she doesn't feel guilty when she flirts with Edmund, or gazes into his eyes, because after all, it's just a dream.

She thanks Merlin that she's always had an ability to mask her emotions, even from herself because Lucy's the one who falls in love with the make believe.

(But love isn't just for dreamers, you know)

* * *

Her first visit to Narnia ends, and she returns to the real world through a painted wall, its colourful mosaic a splash of colour in the dark green forest.

And yeah, she still thinks it's just a dream.

(But she hopes that it isn't)

* * *

After Narnia, the wizarding world seems duller, and magic isn't as, well,_magical_as it always seemed before. But she dons her mask of ice once again and continues where she left off, being queen of Hogwarts; terrifying first years and making everyone want to be her.

Narnia is like all her fantasies come true – a place where Victoire can never be. Maybe that's why she clings onto the memory of her 'dream' a little tighter than she should.

(The only good part about 'waking up' is that she breaks up with Scorpius, and Rose starts to smile at her again)

But life goes on, and the memories fade, so when it happens again she's a little surprised.

She's reading_the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe _again when the wind starts blowing fiercely, swirling around her before calming again. She shuts her eyes against the onslaught of sand stirred up by the sudden storm, and when she opens them again she sees the colourful landscape of Narnia.

This time, she believes.

* * *

Her second visit passes in the same fashion as her first – dancing and light and laughter. Her mood improves from her usual icy self the minute she realises where she is.

This time, however, Edmund seems determined to 'win her favour' as they say in Narnia; dancing with her at every celebration and talking to her at every opportunity.

'_Aww, the darling's got a little crush,' _her icy side sneers, while the other half – innocent and unbroken – dreams of sunshine and roses and love.

She enters the room she's been given, a sudden sparkle catching her eye, and she turns to see what is creating the sparkle.

A crystal narcissus is lying on the desk, the sunlight streaming through the open window barely touching its sparkling petals.

She picks up the flower, the colour of a new dawn, and smiles, gazing down at it with a strange half-smile on her face and a glow in her eyes.

Underneath the narcissus, a hastily scribbled note is folded exactly three times.

_Dominique –_

_Meet me by the beach?_

_- E_

She laughs in bemusement, writing her answer underneath his question.

_Edmund _–

_Sure. I'll race you there!_

_- D_

She opens the door, and spotting a page boy walking past her door, asks him to take the message to King Edmund.

She's perfectly content, for once; Narnia is soothing and calm, and is like all her fantasies come true – a place where Victoire can never be, and where she can escape the pressure of striving for perfection in a world where she will always be second-best.

* * *

And suddenly, she finds herself falling in love, something she had always tried to avoid.

Falling in love is strangely freeing, she finds, though it has only been two weeks, and it's time for her to leave again.

(It shouldn't be possible to fall in love so quickly, but Narnia makes everything seem so easy)

They are standing next to the shimmering stone wall, and she turns to him with a final question.

"Am I dreaming? Is this all simply a dream?" she asks, pleading with her eyes for him to say that it is all, in fact, real.

Before he can answer, she is pulled by the arm back into the wall, and the magic of Narnia fizzles out around her.

* * *

"Edmund!" Dominique calls, running down from the tower to the white beach sand, almost knocking him over with her enthusiasm.

"Hello," he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. It's two weeks in to her third (and final) visit, and he marvels at the changes in her since she first came to Narnia.

At first, she was a lot like the White Witch; all beautiful features and icy heart, and he was instantly drawn to her. And when he finds out she knows magic, well,_there goes all rational thought._He's always had a thing for girls like that.

But he has learned to love this vibrant Dominique too, and he can't help but feel a little proud that it was he who brought about this change in her, and he wonders what her family thinks when she returns to the other world. At the thought, he clutches her closer, the possessive side of him being sparked.

"Why am I so happy here, Edmund? Does Narnia change everyone this much?" she asks, gazing at him. "Why was I only brought here now? I've read that book a thousand times, and so has Albus, and Lucy, so why me? Why now?"

Sometimes, he swears she can read his mind.

"Narnia has always called to its own," he says, his brow furrowing adorably. "It is amazing what Narnia can do to you, to anyone who breaches it."

"As for why now, I suppose that Narnia – and Aslan – know when it's time for certain people to pass through the veil between our worlds. It's wondrous that way."

"It's amazing, isn't it," she sighs, and lays her head against his shoulder. She can't imagine going back to her mundane world of practical magic.

* * *

She wants to forget. She doesn't want to remember that she has ties to another world, another life.

And she stops believing there is any other world outside Narnia. So when the end of the three months is up, when Edmund says he's sorry she's leaving, she doesn't understand.

She only has vague memories of a tall woman with blonde hair, and an even taller man with a scar ravaged face. Only brief recollections of swinging with a red-headed boy, and a beautiful girl, and honey, she hasn't touched that smooth stick of wood – what is it, a wand? – in a very long time.

Edmund leads her to a shimmering wall, and kisses her deeply. She still doesn't understand, but accept his kisses with equal fervour; she is never one to pass up Edmund's kisses.

"Goodbye, Dominique."

He places her hand against the wall, and she feels her hand moving through the seemingly solid wall. It's a peculiar sensation, like walking through jelly. She starts as her hand hits something solid, and she looks back to see Edmund smiling sadly at her. She tries to push past it, some primal instinct buried deep inside her screaming that it's important to get back – though she doesn't know_where _she's getting back to.

She finally pushes through the wall, looking up to see a red-headed boy, his freckles standing out against his pale face. He stares at her, and she stares back, and long forgotten memories start to rise to the surface as she looks into eyes that are the twin to her own.

"D-dominique?" he stutters, and for some reason it feels very wrong for this boy to be anxious or unsure. But then her attention is brought to the name, and it feels right.

She nods, and he nods, before running into the house, and it stirs something in her.

"Louis!"

She's crash-landed into reality, and this time, there's no turning back.

* * *

Narnia is drifting further away, and she's searching furiously for any link left to that magical, wonderful place where she first fell in love.

She's never been the particularly depressed type, instead preferring to lock up her emotions inside her, but Edmund brings out the best – and worst – in her. And no matter what she does, the flood of emotion just won't stop coming, and it's pushing her over the waterfall into her own personal hell.

She spends all her time dreaming about him –_look what he's done! Lucy's the dreamer, not her_– and wishing that things were different; wishing he was here. Every time she sees brown eyes, she starts sobbing, and her salty tears push her that much closer.

She's wasting away – she's always been thin, but not like this – and she couldn't be the old perfect Dominique if she tried.

Her parents mutter soothing words, but their words are hollow; they still don't believe that she left, let alone fell in love.

Sometimes, she catches a glimpse of green eyes staring at her; Albus seems to watch her all the time, and his eyes reflect the pain and suffering in hers.

She doesn't understand why Albus' feelings seem to mirror her own, but she revels in it; sadistically pleased that someone else is suffering the same way as she is. It seems that as Edmund gets further and further away, so too does the softer side of her that only he brings out.

Maybe it's pathetic, and sad, but Narnia is the only place where she's ever truly been free. So she yearns not just for Edmund, but also for the magical land where she was simply herself.

She's working in the kitchen, and she spots a glint of silver against the chestnut wood of the kitchen table. She walks over to the flash, and spies a small knife probably only the length and width of her tallest finger. Picking it up, she twirls it in her hand, before caressing the smooth metal; trailing a finger over the length of the blade.

She brushes the cold metal against her ohso fair skin, and this touch of forbidden darkness is tantalising her; and_oh, _she's this much closer to being with Edmund. Oh yes – she's figured out what others haven't_(didn't want to)_– if you die, you can live in Narnia forever.

And it seems like all her problems would be solved. In Narnia, she wouldn't be forever second-best, forever alone, forever never good enough…

Then it's being pushed away, and bright emerald eyes look up into hers.

"Don't do it, Nika. It's not worth it. Trust me, I know," Albus says.

And she remembers, as if in a strange half-dream, Susan mentioning a boy with black hair and startlingly green eyes.

She puts down the knife, her eyes sparklingly dangerously, tears threatening to fall. For once, she lets them.

And she sobs in his arms, and he gives her strength; two broken hearts that still yearn for Narnia.

* * *

Albus is what gets her through the next 147 days, and she returns the favour. The rest of the family is mystified by the cousins' sudden closeness; they'd never been like that before.

But she doesn't care what they think, though her life used to revolve around their judgements. She strove to prove how perfect she was, to earn their approval; yet she was always just Dominique, hidden in her sister's shadow and pushed to the side. Being the best was her life's ambition, and suddenly she doesn't even care.

* * *

Eventually the memories start to blur, until she can only remember Edmund's face, and a beautiful beach; and a moment, a single moment, when she really, truly loved. And she clings to those scarce memories; Albus moves on, but she finds it impossible.

So when she runs on to the road outside Kings Cross to shove her nephew out of the way of the incoming car, there's a sixth sense that tells her that she's not going to make it to the platform.

She's always been a little bit reckless – it's an unfortunate Weasley trait, so even though she thinks twice about running across the road, she does it anyway.

The car honks, but comes just a little too close, and in that split second she sees him in her mind's eye; smiling and laughing with love shining clear in his eyes.

And somehow, she can't bring herself to care about everything she's leaving behind.

* * *

_Please read and review!_


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